


Five Times Viktor Ended Up Alone, and One Time He Didn't

by pursuitofnerdiness



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aftermath of Violence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Tie-pulling, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9781166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pursuitofnerdiness/pseuds/pursuitofnerdiness
Summary: Do you want to hear about my past lovers?





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Warning: Homophobic violence and slurs, mild dissociative episode**
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> This is a difficult story but it’s one I wanted to write anyway. The world that Kubo shows us is a carefree one where nobody seems to blink an eye at people being queer, but our world isn’t like that. So please, please, please, read the tags and warnings and proceed accordingly.
> 
> Thank you so much to my betas [Sihaya Black](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beledibabe/pseuds/Sihaya%20Black) and [Jaradel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jaradel/pseuds/jaradel)! I’m still new to writing fic, and their comments improved the quality of this piece immensely.

_ Do you want to hear about my past lovers? _

Part 1: 2004.

Viktor is seventeen years old, and he’s kissing another boy in the locker room.

Anton is an ice dancer who practices at the same rink and has been flirting with him for weeks. Viktor, well… he’s never done this before, and he’s not immune to the charms of a very handsome ice dancer who won’t stop looking at him like that. And he wants to know,  _ so badly _ , what it feels like to kiss someone.

Anton waits until Viktor finishes practice. Viktor stays late, until the rink is deserted. So when Anton pushes him up against a wall of lockers and holds his face close to Viktor’s, Viktor kisses him.

In theory, he shouldn’t be doing this. But he’s seventeen and any chance of rational risk-benefit analysis is obliterated by a surge of hormones.

It’s Viktor’s first kiss, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and his lips, dry, are pressed awkwardly against Anton’s. Viktor’s eyes are open and he’s pretty sure he’s doing this all wrong.

Anton smiles against Viktor’s lips. Anton pulls back and places a finger on Viktor’s lower lip, toying with it for a moment and then pulling back. “I was hoping you’d be up for this.”

“Kiss me, then, Anton.”

Anton licks his lips and crushes his mouth against Viktor’s. Viktor closes his eyes and lets Anton do the work.  _ Oh, that feels nice _ , Viktor thinks, and moves his own mouth. He tries to mimic whatever Anton’s doing to him. He thinks he’s only somewhat successful.

Before long, Anton presses his tongue between Viktor’s lips, and Viktor opens his mouth to let him in. He’s so  _ warm _ . Everything’s getting warm.

Anton’s fingers creep up under Viktor’s shirt, and Viktor breathes a little harder. This seems to be going a bit fast, but it feels so good...

Viktor’s lost in sensation, until suddenly Anton stops. Viktor opens his eyes. Standing before the two of them is Yakov. Viktor freezes too.

Viktor can’t decipher the expression on Yakov’s face. “Anton, get out of here.” Yakov sounds… not angry, but not  _ not _ angry. Anton grabs his bag off the bench and scurries out of the locker room.

And Viktor is still standing there. His legs give out from under him, and he slides to the floor.

Yakov sighs heavily. “Viktor.” 

He’s frozen. His heart is somehow split in two, one half utterly silent, still, frozen in time, and the other racing at unfathomable speed, careening towards certain disaster. His brain crashes into the wall of potential consequences. What if Yakov kicks him off the team? What if he throws him out onto the street? Where will he go? Panic rises within him and his face feels wet. His mouth catches up with his brain and he sputters. “Yakov, please, I didn’t mean-- it won’t happen again, just please don’t--”

“Viktor, stop.”

“But Yakov, please, I’m so sorry, I--” Viktor’s fingernails leave marks on the inside of his palms.

“Vitya! Please just stop and listen to me, for once.” 

The use of the affectionate nickname stops the torrent from Viktor’s mouth.

Yakov places his hand to his forehead, sighs, and then looks back down at Viktor. “Vitya, I’ve been a figure skating coach for decades. Do you think I’ve never met or taught a gay figure skater before?”

Viktor is still silent.

Yakov sighs again. “Look, it doesn’t matter to me. But it will matter to others. So… just be careful, okay? I don’t want your career to suffer. It’s shameful that things are like this, but that’s the way they are. But I want you to know that I won’t turn my back on you, all right?”

Viktor’s eyes widen, and he lets go of a breath he forgot he was holding. “Yakov…” Viktor smiles and springs up from the floor and hugs Yakov tightly.

Yakov lets Viktor hug him for a moment and then grumbles. “Okay, Vitya, enough, enough.” He extracts himself from Viktor’s arms. “Now, on the other hand, kissing in the locker room is not allowed, so I expect you here two hours early tomorrow.”

“Of course, Coach!”

Yakov grumbles again. “Yeah, yeah.” He turns around and leaves, and Viktor is alone in the silent locker room.

 

* * *

 

Part 2: 2006.

Viktor is nineteen years old, and he's walking out of a gay club in St. Petersburg with his boyfriend.  _ My boyfriend! _ he thinks gleefully. He met Evgeny at that same club last year. They’d grown close, and Viktor is completely infatuated.

They danced for hours, and Evgeny complained in jest how much of an unfair advantage Viktor had when it came to dancing. After all, he was practically a professional.

 Viktor’s muscles ache, but it’s a pleasant, satisfying, endorphin-tinged sort of ache. Viktor can’t help but smile as they walk outside. It’s mid-spring, and it’s his last hurrah of freedom before he starts training more seriously. Spring, however, is a relative term this far north, and it’s chilly after midnight. All Viktor wants to do is get back to Evgeny’s apartment so they can keep warm together.

Viktor sways a bit as he walks, off-balance and unrestrained from too much alcohol. He always touches people he cares about; that’s just how he is. He knows he really shouldn’t, but the alcohol makes it hard for him to rein himself in. Besides, it’s late, and no one’s around. They walk down the street together, and Viktor leans in close, his lips dragging over Evgeny’s warm neck. At just that moment, a man turns the corner and practically walks right into them.

“What are you doing, you fucking faggots?”

Viktor pulls away from Evgeny and looks up at the man. Viktor squints, but he still can’t quite focus. What’s happening? 

Without any further warning, the man punches Viktor square in the face. Viktor stumbles backwards, and the man swipes at him again, across the mouth this time. Viktor loses his balance from the impact and falls backwards, unable to catch himself or soften the landing. His eyes widen as the man closes the gap between them. Viktor doesn’t know what to do, can’t  _ think _ with the alcohol distorting things. “What…?” is the only protest he can muster.

“Fucking disgusting.” The man spits on him and kicks him in the ribs. Viktor screams. What’s happening? The man continues kicking him in the ribs, repeatedly and hard, and Viktor is unable to do anything but shield his face out of instinct.  Finally, the man gives up and walks away.

Viktor looks up. Evgeny’s gone. He’s alone. He pulls himself up against the wall and starts crying. His chest blazes with pain. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and it comes away bloody. He was so stupid. So stupid. How could he be so stupid? He knew it could be dangerous out there, but he never thought something like that could happen to _him_.  

But he can’t just lie here all night. He has to get out of here to somewhere safe. Who knows if that man will come back? After a few minutes, he struggles to stand. He’s shaking from both pain and the surge of adrenaline. He winces and holds his ribcage. He hopes nothing’s broken.

There’s a main road a few blocks away, so he stumbles towards it and waits, hoping to hail a cab. Mercifully, one arrives just minutes later, and he gingerly places himself in the back seat.

Viktor meets the driver’s gaze in the rear view mirror and watches pity creep into his eyes as he asks, “Rough night?” 

Viktor nods. “Awful.” Viktor gives Yakov’s address.

 

The cab deposits Viktor outside Yakov’s impressive residence. He hobbles up to the front door and rings the bell. He waits. No answer. Maybe he’ll just fall asleep on Yakov’s doorstep in the cold. But before that can happen, a light turns on upstairs.

A few minutes later, Yakov opens the door. He gasps as he looks Viktor over. “Vitya, what the hell happened?”

Viktor stumbles forward and leans on the frame of the door. He can’t stop himself from crying again. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t careful.” Yakov would know what he meant. He doesn’t want to explain.

“Vitya…” Yakov’s face falls and he puts an arm around Viktor. “Let’s get you inside and get you some ice.” Yakov helps Vitya over the threshold.  “Okay, let’s get you to the couch.” 

As Viktor struggles to the couch, he catches the sight of himself in a mirror in the entryway. He’s so startled by the sight of himself that without thinking, he draws in a sharp breath to gasp, which reignites the fire in his chest. His mouth is encrusted with dried blood, and a bruise is forming around his eye. He grimaces as he turns away and hobbles onward.

Viktor eases himself down to the couch and exhales shakily. “I’m sorry.”

“Vitya, don’t… It’s not your fault.” 

“Okay.” Viktor doesn’t have the strength to argue. It’s taking everything he has to breathe through the pain.

“Do you know if anything’s broken? If so I’m taking you to the hospital.” Yakov pauses. “Do you want me to check, or do you want to do it yourself?”

Viktor considers, and he’d rather not have anyone else touch him right now. “I’ll do it.”

“Okay, let me know if you feel any bumps or dents.”

Viktor reaches up under his shirt and feels his chest. Pain blooms under every point of contact between his fingers and his ribcage, but nothing seems to be out of place. “I don’t think so.”

“Can you breathe okay?” 

“It hurts, but yes.”

“Probably just bruised ribs, then. I’ll be right back. Try your best to breathe normally, even though it hurts.”

Viktor swings his legs up onto the couch so he’s lying down. He stares at the ceiling, and he starts to cry again. How could he have been so stupid? He knows better, and yet…

He fishes his phone out of his jacket. It’s not broken. _Nokia, so indestructible it can survive a gay bashing_ , he thinks bitterly _._ He texts Evgeny. _I’m staying with my coach. I’ll be okay. Call me tomorrow? Please?_

Yakov returns a few minutes later with ice packs, water, ibuprofen, and a blanket.

“Yakov, I’m so stupid.”

“Vitya, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Viktor accepts Yakov’s care, but he doesn’t respond. He swallows the ibuprofen, and arranges the ice packs on his face and chest. Yakov gently covers him with the blanket. Viktor doesn’t even have it in him to make a joke about tucking him in.

“Vitya…” Yakov trails off as he looks at Viktor like he might start crying too. “Get some rest, and we’ll have the team doctor look at you tomorrow. I’ll come up with some kind of explanation…” 

“Thank you, Coach.”

“Goodnight, Vitya.”

After a while, the ice and the ibuprofen kick in, and the pain of breathing eases a little. He falls asleep on Yakov’s couch, exhausted and broken.

Evgeny never calls him back, and he breaks again.

* * *

Part 3: 2009.

Viktor is twenty-two years old, and he’s dancing in a gay club in Los Angeles. He just won silver at the World Championships, and Christophe took him out to this place to celebrate. It took some serious convincing on Chris’s part. Chris promised him that California was different and that he’d be fine here. 

A man walks by and then turns back around, squinting as he looks at Viktor. His face lights up in recognition. “Oh my god, are you VIKTOR NIKIFOROV?” 

Chris smiles and wraps an arm around Viktor. “Why, yes he is!”

“Chris…” Viktor pouts. “How am I supposed to stay undercover if you just tell them who I am?”

“And Christophe Giacometti too, wow!” The man waves his friends over. “Guys, it’s VIKTOR! We are HUGE fans. Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“Could we maybe get a photo?”

Viktor frowns. Normally he loves taking photos with fans, but… “I’m sorry, I’m not really… out, so. Not here.” The last thing he needs is to end up on TMZ in a fan photo.

The man nods solemnly. “Well, how about a dance instead?”

Viktor smiles. “Sure!” He’s trying to have fun, for Chris’s sake, at least, so he starts dancing again. “What’s your name?”

“Michael. At your service,” he says with a wink.

Oh, Viktor knows where this is going. They keep dancing, and Michael is so aggressively flirtatious. He’s not hiding what he wants at all.

Viktor could have this man or any of his friends right now. Michael would probably suck him off in the bathroom or come back to his hotel room if Viktor asked. But he doesn’t feel ... anything. This isn’t what he wants. Suddenly he’s so, so tired. He turns to Chris and taps him on the shoulder. Viktor leans over and speaks into Chris’s ear. “Chris, let’s go. I should rest.”

“But the exhibition isn’t for three days. Don’t you want to have some fun before then?”

“I’m not having fun.”

Chris looks unhappy, but he acquiesces. “Okay, let’s go.” Chris turns to Viktor’s fans. “Sorry, gentlemen, but it’s been a long day and Viktor here needs his beauty sleep.”

Viktor turns his eyes downward as he sees Michael’s expression shift, his face falling. Viktor can’t even look him in the eye.

Outside, Chris finds them a cab, and they climb in.

“I’m sorry, Chris. I really tried.”

“I know. Thanks for coming.”

Viktor stares at the ceiling in his silent hotel room for an hour before finally falling asleep.

* * *

_ That’s it. Those are my past lovers. A makeout buddy and a fuck buddy I confused for a boyfriend and made the mistake of having feelings for. Didn’t even do anything with a man who was throwing himself at me. Not the playboy you thought I was, am I? _

* * *

Part 4: 2014.

Viktor is twenty-seven years old, and he’s absolutely miserable.

He won his fifth Worlds. He’s at the top of his profession, and no one even comes close to challenging him. He’s bored, and worse, his audience is growing bored with him. 

He unlocks the door to his apartment. It’s empty, cold, and quiet. The kennel is closed for the night, so he can’t see Makkachin until tomorrow.

He takes off his gloves and jacket and drops his suitcase in the entryway, then locks the door behind him. He’ll unpack later.

He flops on the couch dramatically and scrolls through his phone. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for. Inspiration, maybe. He scrolls through the music on his phone, but nothing catches his eye. He scrolls through old photos. He has so many pictures of Makkachin. Not the real thing, though. He pouts.

And then, above the album with the photos of Makkachin, he sees the album of photos from the Grand Prix Final banquet at Sochi. What a party that had been. He opens the album and scrolls through the photos. He smiles as photos of that Japanese skater appear. Katsuki Yuuri.  _ Hm. I wonder why he wasn’t at Worlds… _

Viktor searches his name and finds that Yuuri completely bombed Japanese Nationals.

_ Poor guy, must have been injured or something… _

He goes back to the photo album. What a night. Yuuri danced with him for most of it. And oh, had Viktor ever been charmed. But after the banquet, he shoved his feelings down. A relationship with another skater was surely impossible, so he tried not to dwell on anything that came dangerously close to feelings like that. But still… Yuuri was very attractive, and god, he could pole dance too. That had been unbearably sexy, watching Yuuri’s small, muscular body writhe around a pole as he put himself on display. Suddenly, Viktor bites his lip, and his heart rate accelerates. He keeps scrolling through photos of a mostly-naked Yuuri pole dancing, and before long, his cock twitches.

Oh. Oh no.

After what happened when he was nineteen, Viktor closed himself off. He wouldn’t be able to endure something like that again. Life would be far more straightforward, he thought, if he just ignored romance and sex and focused on skating instead, and this is where it had gotten him.  The generous interpretation? A five year championship streak. The more pathetic? Friendless but for his rink-mates, without a lover of any kind, and about to masturbate on his couch to photos of a fellow skater.

Viktor unzips his pants and slides them down out of the way. His cock bulges in his underwear, so he frees it from the grasp of the cloth. His breath shakes as he touches himself. It’s been… a while. He doesn’t want to dwell on how long.

He thinks back to the banquet and remembers the end of the night, remembers the moment when he  _ knew _ . He remembers the warmth of Yuuri’s body as Yuuri ground against his hip and asked him to be his coach. His cheeks flushed when he realized he was falling for this man, hard. His cheeks flush now, too. He remembers the way Yuuri danced with him, enthralling him with his carefree spirit. Yuuri was a fantastic dancer. And pole dancer. God. Viktor slicks his hand with spit and takes hold of his cock. He moves his hand back and forth, shivering.

Viktor closes his eyes, and those breathtaking memories flicker in his consciousness. Yuuri, writhing around that pole. Yuuri, strong enough to do a lift. What could that powerful little body do to him? Anything he wanted, Viktor reckons. And he moans. Memories blur into fantasies as he drags his hand back and forth along his shaft. Yuuri pushing him onto a bed. Yuuri sucking him off. Viktor’s hand speeds up, and precome leaks steadily from the tip of his cock. Yuuri sliding slick fingers into him. Viktor moans again. Viktor places his thumb under the head of his cock, teasing the glans. He’s close. Yuuri pressing his cock inside Viktor, making him beg for it. Yuuri fucking him. Talking dirty to him. Fucking him harder, hitting him in just the right place. Viktor moves his hand faster and faster until--

Viktor knows it’s happening, but he is unprepared for the  _ intensity _ of it. He lets out a strangled cry as he’s overtaken with pleasure. He might have shouted Yuuri’s name. Hot come spurts out of his cock, and he keeps stroking himself until it stops, not wanting the pleasure to end.

He lies on his couch, panting. He’s spilled come all over his hand, his underwear, his pants, like a fucking teenager. _ Oh my god. _ He’s so embarrassed. He’s pathetic. But maybe… for a short time, he felt like he wasn’t alone.

Except he is alone. That was a ridiculous fantasy. He can’t believe he let himself imagine something like that. He’s alone, cold, and sticky, and he can’t even let himself enjoy the afterglow. He sighs as he gets up and strips off his clothes. He needs a shower.

He steps under the hot water and exhales in relief. He cleans himself off and tries not to think too much, but he fails. Tears drip down his cheeks, mixing with the hot water from the shower. He’s so lonely and it hurts so much. He stands there crying until the water goes cold.

And once again, he goes to bed alone.

* * *

Part 5: 2014. 

Viktor is still twenty-seven years old, and he’s racing through Sheremetyevo to catch the last flight of the night back to Fukuoka. It’s a grueling flight with two layovers, and it will take him an entire day to get back to Hatsetsu. He hopes Makkachin can hang on for that long. 

He makes it to the gate just as they announce the final boarding call. It’s a good thing he’s been working out alongside Yuuri or he might not have made it.

All he brought with him is his coat, his wallet, and his passport. He left straight from the arena to make it to the airport in time.

He hands his boarding pass to the gate attendant. She scans it, nods as the scanner beeps and turns green, and hands him back his pass. “Welcome, Mr. Nikiforov.” She knows who he is, of course. Just like they say on TV and the radio: he’s Russia’s national hero. If only they knew the real Viktor, they’d never want him as their hero.  _ That’s right, Russia. Your hero is a fucking faggot. _ Bitterness blooms across his tongue as he thinks it.

He walks down the jet bridge and seats himself in first class. He’s exhausted, and not just from sprinting through the airport. This seven hour overnight flight means it’ll be another day until he can get a decent amount of sleep. He’s so torn up with worry that he doubts he can sleep anyway.

He pays no attention to the pre-flight announcements; his thoughts are entirely occupied with Yuuri, Makkachin, and the lingering ache he feels being in Russia again. Russia claims him for itself but makes no room for him to be. So when he feels the plane lift off from the runway, he releases a captive breath. He’s left Russian soil. He doesn’t want to leave Yuuri behind, but he’s just fine leaving Russia.

And now he’ll be cut off from the world, from the man he loves, for days. By the time Viktor gets back to Hatsetsu, Yuuri will be boarding his own flight home. How can he make it that long without Yuuri there by his side? He’ll have to be strong and fight on his own, just like Yuuri.

The cabin lights turn off, and while everyone else around him tries to sleep, he stares straight ahead. Makkachin is suffering. Yuuri is on his own. He can’t do anything for either of them right now and he feels  _ alone _ .

Eventually, the loop of his thoughts slows and peters out, and exhaustion pulls him from consciousness.

* * *

Plus One: 2014.  

Viktor is still twenty-seven years old, and he’s in a hotel room in Barcelona with Yuuri.

It’s the night after the Grand Prix Final banquet. Viktor booked them a few extra nights in the hotel after the tournament so that they could have some private time together before returning to Hatsetsu. They just got back to their room after dinner and a stroll, and Viktor isn’t able to quiet the nagging feelings in the back of his mind.

“Yuuri.” Viktor grabs Yuuri by the shoulders and stares at him intensely.

“What is it? Everything okay?” Yuuri looks at Viktor a bit curiously.

“I need you to fuck me senseless.”

Yuuri’s lips curl into a mischievous smile. “That can be arranged.”

Yuuri pushes him against the wall in the entryway of their hotel room, then grabs him by the tie, pulling Viktor’s mouth down to his own. Yuuri kisses Viktor fiercely, and Viktor opens his mouth to let Yuuri in. Yuuri presses his tongue against Viktor’s, and Viktor moans into his fiancé’s mouth.

Yuuri pushes his hips against Viktor and continues kissing him. Viktor feels Yuuri hardening against him, and he comes up for air, breaking their kiss, panting. “Nngh, Yuuri.”

This is what Viktor wants, to lose himself in pleasure, so he can stop thinking. And Yuuri is absolutely up to the task.

Yuuri untucks Viktor’s shirt and slides a hand up Viktor’s chest. A mischievous finger brushes Viktor’s nipple and lingers there, toying with sensitive nerves, and Viktor inhales sharply, biting his lip.

“Let’s get your shirt off, then.” Yuuri unbuttons Viktor’s shirt and pauses at the top, grabbing Viktor by the tie one more time to bring him in close. But instead of kissing him, Yuuri nibbles the top of his ear, and then whispers. “I hope you’re ready for me to fuck you into the mattress.”

Viktor chokes out a moan, and he’s hard. So hard. “Please, Yuuri.”

Yuuri releases him and finishes undoing the shirt and tie. Viktor lets the shirt slide off his shoulders to the floor. Yuuri’s brown eyes are ablaze with desire, and he smirks back, palming Viktor through his pants. “Now what do we have here?”

Viktor absolutely cannot control the sounds coming out of his mouth.

Yuuri quickly unfastens Viktor’s belt and undoes his zipper, letting the trousers fall to the floor. Viktor stands against the wall, wearing only his underwear and the bright pink flush of desire across every square inch of his skin. Yuuri leans down and presses a kiss to Viktor’s cloth-covered cock. “I can’t decide if this is my favorite part of your body. It might also be your pretty mouth, or maybe--” Yuuri grabs both cheeks of Viktor’s ass “--this.”

More sounds tumble from Viktor’s mouth and he cannot stop himself. And to think Yuuri was so inexperienced at all this just months ago. Viktor’s created a monster. An incredibly sexy monster.

Yuuri grabs the waistband of Viktor’s underwear and slowly slides it down, letting Viktor’s cock pop out, but Yuuri’s careful not to touch it as he helps Viktor step out of his pants and underwear.

Viktor stands there, dumbstruck as Yuuri takes off his own clothes. He pulls his shirt up and off as he stretches, revealing his taut, muscular form. “Enjoying the show?”

“Oh my god, yes.” Viktor’s amazed that he can form words.

Yuuri shimmies out of his pants and underwear next. Yuuri’s cock is hard and erect, too. “Bed. Now.” He takes Viktor by both hands and pulls him toward the beds they’ve pushed together. When they get there, Yuuri grabs Viktor’s shoulders and pushes him down on the bed. Viktor obediently arranges himself on his back.

After removing his glasses and putting them on the bedside table, Yuuri climbs on top of Viktor and  _ consumes _ him with his eyes. After a moment, Yuuri backs up. He spreads Viktor’s knees apart and settles between them, eyes still locked on Viktor’s as he leans down and gives Viktor’s cock a swipe with his tongue. Viktor moans in response, and Yuuri takes the head in his mouth, giving the underside some attention with his tongue.

Viktor throws his head back and groans as Yuuri takes his cock further in his mouth. Viktor already feels twitchy and he doesn’t want to come just from this, but it feels too good to tell Yuuri to stop. Besides, Yuuri knows Viktor’s limits and just how far he can push him.

Yuuri takes Viktor’s cock deeper, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks and giving Viktor sultry looks. The intensity of Yuuri’s gaze goes straight to Viktor’s cock, and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold out.

To Viktor’s relief, Yuuri releases his cock.

Yuuri reaches over to the bedside table and grabs a bottle of lube. Viktor’s cock twitches as he hears Yuuri click the top open. Yuuri pours a generous amount onto his fingers and looks down at Viktor. “Tell me, Viktor, what do you want?”

“You. Inside me.”

Yuuri presses a slick finger to his entrance and circles the outside, and Viktor whines as Yuuri teases him with his delightful, clever fingers. Finally, Yuuri presses a finger inside, and Viktor moans in response.

“Mmm, that’s right. I’m going to open you up.” Yuuri slides his finger in and out, slowly and carefully. “Relax for me, please.”

Viktor shudders as he inhales and exhales slowly, trying to relax, which is difficult given how keyed up he is. He lets everything slow down as he focuses on breathing.

“So good. Just like that.” Yuuri increases the pace of his movements, thrusting his finger in and out. 

“Mm, Yuuri.”

“Okay, I think you’re ready for a second…”

“Then give it to me.”

“So demanding…” 

But of course, Yuuri accommodates him, slowly sliding in a second finger. 

Viktor gasps as he stretches open around Yuuri’s two fingers. Viktor knows perfectly well that this is all necessary, but he’s getting so impatient.

Yuuri continues working Viktor open with two fingers, and Viktor whimpers, hungry for more. Viktor moves back against Yuuri’s hand, fucking himself on Yuuri’s fingers. God, that feels so good. But he wants more. He wants Yuuri’s cock filling him. “Yuuri. Please.”

“What is it?”

“Please, fuck me.”

“I am fucking you, with my fingers.”

“Yuuri.”

“Say it.”

“Yuuri, please fuck me with your cock.”

Almost immediately, Yuuri withdraws his fingers, and Viktor whines, feeling bereft at the loss.

Yuuri reaches over to the bedside table again, this time grabbing a condom. He tears the packet open, adds some lube to the head of his shaft, and rolls the condom on. He takes another moment to slick up his cock with lube, and then he lifts Viktor’s knees onto his shoulders.

Viktor looks down his chest and watches as Yuuri lines up his cock with Viktor’s entrance. Yuuri presses against him, and he whimpers. “Please,” he begs again.

And then Yuuri pushes inside, slowly, drawing out the burn as Viktor stretches around him. He closes his eyes, and then, Yuuri’s  _ inside _ him, and everything feels so right. He gasps as Yuuri slides deeper, slowly, slowly, until he’s all the way inside.

He opens his eyes again. Yuuri looks down at him, pupils blown wide with desire, absolutely devouring him with his gaze. “Move,” Viktor says, although he’s not sure if it comes out in English or in Russian. Either way, Yuuri seems to understand.

Viktor moans as Yuuri begins to move. Oh god, this is exactly what he needed. Yuuri takes his time, fucking him nice and slowly. And then, Yuuri shifts the angle of Viktor’s hips just so, so he grazes Viktor’s prostate with his cock.

Viktor moans, curses in Russian, pleads in Russian. He’s probably just babbling nonsense by this point, really. Yuuri knows exactly what he’s doing to Viktor, and they both love it.

“I’m going to make you come now.”

And Yuuri once again changes his angle so it’s just right, hitting against Viktor’s prostate. Yuuri places a hand around Viktor’s cock and keeps thrusting into him.

Viktor looks up at Yuuri, and Yuuri looks back. It’s almost too much, really. Viktor’s heart feels so full. Yuuri’s expression softens, and he smiles back.

And then gets right back to fucking him into the mattress, as promised. Yuuri wraps his hand around Viktor’s cock as he continues fucking him, rolling his hips, and Viktor knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Yuuri…” It’s the only word he has left in his vocabulary at this point. His whole world has narrowed down to  _ Yuuri _ .

“Come for me.”

And Viktor tumbles over the edge. Yuuri keeps stroking him, and Viktor arches his back, crying out as he orgasms, come pulsing out of his cock onto his stomach. He bears down on Yuuri and pulls him along, and moments later, Yuuri’s coming too. Yuuri lingers within him, hesitating before he pulls out.

And when he does, something’s… wrong. Viktor keeps falling. He’s raw and open and vulnerable and all those nagging feelings come flooding back in. He turns onto his side and curls in on himself. Yuuri lies down next to him, spooning him and pressing gentle kisses into the back of his neck. 

“Mmm, Viktor, you’re wonderful.” Yuuri gently cleans Viktor off with some tissues from the bedside table. “I’m so glad we have some time together here before we go home.”

Viktor lies still as the echoes of his past berate him. He doesn’t deserve any of this. He doesn’t deserve to be happy with a man who loves him.  _ A man. _ So many voices over the years telling him just to shut up, hide, stop, stop, stop. Stop feeling, stop  _ existing _ .

Viktor feels Yuuri’s hand brush his own, but instead of taking Yuuri’s hand, Viktor flinches.

“Viktor…?”

Viktor stares at the wall. He can’t move. He can barely breathe. He blinks, and tears form. Someone is saying something? And he can’t stop the tears, and he inhales harder and faster, until his body is wracked with sobs. Someone touches him, but it’s all so far away.

But he doesn’t want to  _ be _ far away. He wants to be with  _ Yuuri _ . He has to climb his way out of the emptiness, struggle back towards him -- towards Yuuri’s soft brown eyes, full of love; towards Yuuri’s hands, the hands that trembled as they placed a ring on Viktor’s finger; towards Yuuri’s warm embrace that feels like a home he’s coming back to.

He blinks slowly and turns his head. Viktor feels Yuuri’s trembling hands on his arms. Viktor looks up and sees Yuuri sitting next to him. The flush that tinged Yuuri’s cheeks just minutes before has vanished and left him looking pale.

“Viktor, please, say something… Are you here?”

“Yuuri…” Viktor whispers. “I’m here.” And before he can stop himself, he starts sobbing again.

Yuuri lies down next to Viktor and pulls him to his chest. He gently strokes Viktor’s hair and lets him cry. After a few minutes, Viktor’s sobs slow and his breathing eases. Yuuri ventures a question. “Viktor, can you tell me what happened? I’m so sorry if I hurt you. I thought you were enjoying everything, and--”

“No, Yuuri. You didn’t hurt me. It’s not your fault.”  _ You are the opposite of hurting me _ , he thinks. “This is...something else.”

“Please… what happened?”

“Just… hold me. Give me a few minutes.”

Yuuri nods and pulls Viktor close, continuing to stroke his hair.

Viktor keeps his eyes closed. He isn’t ready to face Yuuri yet. He rests for a few minutes and then opens his eyes again. Yuuri is still there, of course, looking at him with love and concern and worry. And he really, really needs to tell him. “What happened there… I’ve been struggling a lot, Yuuri. The world is not always a friendly place for... people like  _ us _ .”

Yuuri nods. He waits for Viktor to continue.

“And I love you  _ so much _ , Yuuri. So much. And I--I never thought I’d get to be happy like this. You just… you make everything feel right.”

Yuuri nods again and kisses the top of Viktor’s head. “Viktor… I love you too. So please…”

“I know, Yuuri. But somehow I’m still hurting. I thought I’d be okay, but I’m not. And I just want it to stop, but it never does. I’m sorry, I’m not really making any sense...”

“It’s okay, Viktor. Just keep trying.”

“Things are bad in Russia these days, and I had almost managed to forget… I came to Japan and you just… asked me to be who I am. No one’s ever wanted that before. And your family is just fine with us, too, and I felt like I really  _ could _ be me. But then we went back to Russia, and I just…”

As Viktor trails off, Yuuri rubs circles into his back tenderly to encourage him on.

“Just… having to hide myself. The eyes of the whole country were on me and I couldn’t be who I really was. I pushed back, you know: the long hair, the nail polish, the ridiculous costumes. But I always had to mute myself in Russia. And then we were back there and I started feeling it again, that choking feeling...”

“I’m sorry, Viktor… I didn’t realize going back to Russia would be so hard for you. I don’t… I don’t want you to be hurting like that all alone. You should have said something…”

“I didn’t want to drag you down with my problems. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Viktor.” Yuuri tugs Viktor’s hand and places it against his own so that their rings touch. “This means your problems are my problems, too. I love you. I’m here for you. So, please… Don’t shut me out because you’re trying to protect me.”

Viktor smiles softly, his eyes welling with tears again. “My Yuuri…” He brings Yuuri’s hand to his mouth, closes his eyes, and softly, gently, kisses it, pressing his lips against each knuckle until he reaches the ring. Viktor opens his eyes again and looks at Yuuri as he kisses his fiancé’s ring.

Yuuri blushes. “Vitya...”

Viktor’s face lights up. “You’ve never called me by my nickname before! I like it very much.”

Yuuri smiles back. “I mean, the other option was Vicchan, but, um, it’s also what I called my dog. But I named him after you, so…”

Viktor laughs. “Of course you did. Oh, Yuuri.” Viktor smiles like he’s trying to outshine the sun, and he’s trying to imprint this moment on his very soul, so he can reach back for it always when he needs to find strength.

Yuuri reaches out again and strokes his hair. “You look so beautiful when you smile at me like that. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

Now it’s Viktor’s turn to blush. And he doesn’t want this moment to end, but this is as good of an opening as any. “Yuuri… if you’re going to spend forever with me, there are some things you should know. There’s a lot in my past I haven’t told you about..” He pauses for a moment, contemplating how to continue. “A lot of sad things and heartache and difficulties. And I’d like to tell you, if you want to know. Some of it will be painful for you to hear… and for me to tell you. But you deserve to know.”

Yuuri nods. “I want to know, please.”

“Okay, the last time I asked this, you kind of freaked out, so don’t take it the wrong way. It’s more like the story of how I got here than anything else, really. So… do you want to hear about my past lovers?”

* * *

_ Part 1 Redux. _

“Oh wow, I’m so glad you had Yakov on your side like that.”

“I don’t know what I would have done without him, honestly. Even knowing one person supported me meant so much.”

* * *

_ Part 2 Redux. _

“Yuuri, this next part… it’s really bad, okay? It might… take me a bit.”

Yuuri nods and takes Viktor’s hand. “Take your time.”

Viktor shakes, but he has to do this. He  _ needs _ to do this. And so he takes a deep breath, and the memories come out haltingly.

Yuuri gently strokes his back as Viktor pauses.

Tears drip down Yuuri’s cheeks as Viktor recounts what happened that night. “Vitya… I’m so sorry.”

And when he finishes, Viktor cries too. How many times has he cried tonight? But these tears? These are the ones he’s held back for almost a decade, and a feeling of immense relief overtakes him. He buries his face in Yuuri’s chest as Yuuri holds him and continues rubbing his back.

“Thank you for telling me. I don’t… I never want you to feel hurt or terrified like that again.” Yuuri squeezes Viktor in a hug and kisses the top of his head.

Viktor looks up from Yuuri’s chest and offers a tentative smile.  “I’ve never really told anyone about that before. I’ve told Chris some vague details, and Yakov saw the results, but I never explained what exactly happened. Others might have their suspicions, but they never said anything. I missed a month of practice, which didn’t do me any favors that season. Yakov had to put me back together -- both my bruised ribs and broken heart.”

“You know that… if anything like that happens again, if someone hurts you… I won’t leave you, right?”

“Thank you, Yuuri. I know. But it’s good to hear you say that. And also, that’s the worst part.”

* * *

_ Part 3 Redux. _

“That’s it. Those are my past lovers. A makeout buddy and a fuck buddy I confused for a boyfriend and made the mistake of having feelings for. Didn’t even do anything with a man who was throwing himself at me. Not the playboy you thought I was, am I?”

“I admit, I am surprised…”

“You were always the playboy here, Yuuri. Seducing me at the banquet and then leaving me out in the cold like that.” Viktor sighs melodramatically, teasing Yuuri.

“I didn’t mean to! I honestly can’t remember. I wish I could.”

“Me too. God, what a night. You danced with me, you pole danced… I was totally smitten. And then you never got in touch, and well... You had… quite the effect on me.”

* * *

_ Part 4 Redux _ .

“And if I’m honest, I can’t say that’s the only time that happened. Well, more of the thinking about you part than the crying part, although there was a fair bit of that too.”

Yuuri blushes. “I didn’t realize you were thinking about me like that after the banquet.” 

“I spent a lot of time after Worlds thinking about you and about the banquet. I wrote Eros about you seducing me and then just leaving...”

“So I was right about the story… sort of.”

“Well, yes, but you had it backwards, of course.  But still, I kept thinking about that night. Especially the part where you asked me to be your coach!”

“Wait… I DID WHAT?”

“You did! You said your family runs a hot spring resort and that I should visit and also become your coach. And, um, you said this while super drunk and grinding on me without any pants on.”

“Oh no. Oh my god. This explains everything.”

“Yes, and when you said you didn’t remember the banquet, I realized how totally inappropriate I must have seemed when I showed up at your door and threw myself at you. I saw your video of Stammi Vicino, and I thought you were reminding me of your request and the fact that we’d danced all night at the banquet and neither of us had said anything since. And, well, you know the rest of the story. Well, most of it.”

* * *

_ Part 5 Redux. _

“I felt so awful, Yuuri. I abandoned you, but I had to go see Makkachin. And I wasn’t unhappy to get out of Russia. I felt guilty for a lot of things. I let you down. I let Makkachin down. And Russia, too. And I can’t stop thinking about any of it since I got on that plane. I tried to put on a brave face for you, but...”

“Yeah, I knew something was off. And you still want to skate for Russia after all that?” 

“I want to skate for  _ you _ , Yuuri. The fact that I’ll be on Team Russia, well, it’s incidental.”

“I know we talked about moving to St. Petersburg, but are you going to be okay? Will it be… unsafe?”

“I’ll have you, so I’ll be okay. Trust me, none of the other skaters will mind. It’s just the higher ups, the business types, the press.” Viktor sighs. “Ugh, skating politics.”

“I mean, outside of skating too.”

“I think we’ll be fine, but we can’t be affectionate in public. I’m sorry.” 

“Well, that’s not too different from Japan, really, even for straight couples.”

“True. But things are different for me now as well. I’m so famous that no one would dare come after me physically. I can hire a driver and bodyguard for us if you like.”

“Um, is that… really necessary?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just thought I would offer if you were worried. Anything for my Yuuri. I want you to be safe and happy. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Yuuri kisses Viktor languidly, and Viktor eagerly returns the kiss. After a moment, Yuuri pulls back and smiles at Viktor. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, too.”

The barest hint of sunlight peeks through the window and Yuuri groans. “Ugh, don’t tell me it’s morning already. Wow, we really spent all night talking...”

“But I’m so glad we did.” Viktor smiles at Yuuri again and nuzzles his cheek.

Yuuri kisses Viktor’s nose. “Me too. I want to know everything about you, Vitya. I mean, whatever wasn’t printed in interviews. I already know all of that.”

Viktor laughs. “You have such an unfair advantage! You’ve done far fewer interviews than I have, and they’re mostly in Japanese.”

Yuuri opens his mouth in mock surprise. “Viktor, looking up my interviews!”

“Well, I had to do something after Worlds. And don’t trust my interviews anyway. PR nonsense. I’ll give you the real inside scoop.”

“Okay, but later… we should probably try to get some sleep.”

“Probably.” Viktor turns onto his back, wraps an arm around Yuuri, and pulls Yuuri in so that Yuuri’s head rests on his chest.

“Mmm, you’re my favorite pillow.”

Viktor smiles and places a kiss on Yuuri’s head. “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, Vitya.”

Viktor watches as Yuuri drifts to sleep, his breath tickling Viktor’s chest as it slows. Yuuri feels so warm against him, and his face is so peaceful and relaxed. But it’s been a long, long night, and Viktor feels sleep pulling him under. “любовь моя,” he mumbles into Yuuri’s hair.

And finally,  _ finally _ , Viktor falls asleep, heart full of contentment, alongside the love of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment if you enjoyed my work! I’m still new to writing and posting fic so any encouragement is appreciated.
> 
> Additional note about the years selected: the timeline in YOI is a bit fuzzy as real world tournament locations don’t seem to correspond exactly to the correct year. In my timeline, Viktor’s 5 year world championship streak is 2010-2014, and he coaches Yuuri in the 2014-2015 season. I worked backwards from there, so Viktor is born on December 25, 1986, since we know he’s 27 turning 28 in this season. The exact years don’t really matter, but I just wanted to avoid any potential confusion and also to make sure I was keeping my own timeline consistent.


End file.
